Petunia's story
by woah.its'AIR
Summary: She's known as a horsefaced nosy woman who despises magic. But maybe, just maybe,she wasn't always like that...BTW if you come across this, may you PLEASE tell me what I'm doing wrong? I keep on getting hits, but no comments ...
1. Her life

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. **

_Moonlight beamed upon a marble table stacked with pies, cakes, cookies and an uncountable number of gelatins. Each pie was baked in its own unique way, some filled with apple sauce, while others were filled with cinnamon, chocolate and even strawberry jam. The cakes were covered in a thick layer of creamy chocolate icing, delicious to the last spoonful. The cookies were tender and chewy, while the gelatin was stacked into such a wondrous form. Pleasant smells wafted into the silent night sky, stirring creatures of the wood in their sleep. Not far away, a slender girl with a cloud of dark silky hair gazed dreamily at the feast. I recognized her: no, not through appearance. Though she was everything I am not, from her fair skin to her dainty feet, something inside me just told me that this girl was me. Slowly, my feet dragged towards the table, while I eyed an egg-tart wearily. My stomach rumbled, and with fear, I realized that I hadn't eaten in days. One porcelain hand reached out, seizing the delicacy. I shivered in delight as I gently brought the creamy tart to my ruby lips. I could just about taste custard exploding in my mouth. It was 3 centimeters away. Just a tiny bit closer … _

RING RING BRRRRING!

_Oh darn, stupid alarm clock! Couldn't you just wait until I sampled that tart! You idiotic little piece of yellow plastic! What the heck is your problem! _Thoughts exploded in my head as I realized that it was merely 7:00 in the morning. Silly of me to blame a unanimous object – but I was _hungry_! I was three days into my "dieting plan" – which, in case you were wondering, i did _not_ set. Who in their right _mind_ would happily go on a diet? The answer would be, of course, nobody. At least, nobody who cares about food as much as I do. Oh, then who did? Who set that horribly frustrating diet for me? MY PARENTS, who else? Kind, gentle Mr. and Mrs. Evans, who supposedly care the world about their two dear daughters, set that 'little' program. Well, maybe they care about Lily. Perfect little Lily, who has perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect manners, perfect _EVERYTHING_! Well, I'm sorry, Mom and Dad. I'm sorry that I'm _not _Lily. I'm sorry that I'm plump and that I can never wake up on time, and that I couldn't be tidy to save my life. I'm sorry that I'm failing most subjects at school. I'm sorry that I'm IMPERFECT. I'm _sorry_, will you accept me now?

My thoughts wandered uncontrollably as I shook the yellow alarm clock with all my might. Come to think of it, who set that alarm clock in the first place? I haven't touched it in years…

"LILY!" I screamed in rage, followed by yet a louder cry when there was no response.

"Petunia?" My twin sister stared at me from the doorway, her amber hair tied into two perfect pigtails.

"WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?" I shrieked, two burning red spots appearing on my cheeks.

"What?" Lily replied innocently, her emerald eyes widened in shock.

"WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SET THAT STUPID YELLOW ALARM CLOCK!" I wailed, images of that crunchy egg-tart still flashing in my mind.

"A... Alarm clock?" Lily's voice gave away a tiny tremble. "I … I simply wanted to make sure that you got up this time. I wanted to make sure Dad and Mom didn't yell at you for missing the bus and for …"

"SHUT UP!" I screamed. "DON'T YOU THINK I'M CAPABLE OF WAKING MYSELF UP?"

I knew that the truthful answer was 'No'. No one– not even I, Petunia Evans – could deny that I was horrible at the art of waking up. It was just that _look_ she gave me. Oh yes, Perfect Lily was being such an _angel_ again. Perfect Lily could _never _let her sister get beaten by Mommy and Daddy, could she? Perfect Lily always had the most_ wonderful _excuse for doing something evil, like depriving Petunia of _sleep_. Yes, perfect Lily was just so disgustingly _perfect_.

"Of – of course…" She responded, as she crept out of the room. "Oh, by the way, it's breakfast time."

"DO YOU REALLY THINK I CARE?" I burst, tears welling in my eyes. I threw a pillow at the 'now-closed' door. In normal circumstances, yes, I _would_ care. With no friends, no pets and no true hobbies, savoring delicious tastes was the only thing worth living for. It was different now. My special diet allowed me _only_ to eat fruit, vegetables and … yeah, that's about it. Each meal was torture – not only did I have to resist the urge to grab one of those juicy steaks, but I also had to put up with Mom and Dad's constant nagging:

"_Petunia, what did you do to Lily?"_

"_Lils, dear, don't be bothered by Petunia. Here, eat up your ribs and steak. You're skinny enough." _

Yes, Mom. Slender Lily, with her sparkly emerald eyes and wild red hair, is your dream-child. Nothing like me, I daresay.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn't really _that _bad. I had fair skin and curly, dark locks. I was taller than most girls my age, which made my plumpness slightly more acceptable. It didn't hide the fact that I was overweight – it just made it easier to live with it. My eyes didn't dance with color, like Lily's. No, my eyes were like open windows, blasting my every emotion at those scarce onlookers. Sorrow and despair gleamed back at me from those dark gray eyes. The truth was staring out for those who dared to care: **I needed to get away**. And fast.


	2. The letter

I guess I should have known all along – the truth was staring me in the face. But then again, maybe my absence of knowledge was acceptable. After all, it's not like there was an eye-catching, dramatic sign with a red-nosed clown jumping up and down, screaming for me to notice it. It was those little things, pointing out that there was something different about me. Something abnormal.

I still remember those times when Mom and Dad would lock me in the cellar because I was being "bad". Back in those days, Lily and I would stick together, going everywhere and doing everything together. Mom and Dad adored Lily, just like they still do now. But there was something about me that just wasn't good enough for them. Maybe, it was because I wasn't pretty or smart enough. Maybe, it was my split personality. Or maybe, it was that bad luck that I caused. I remember when I was five. My parents loved Lily and I almost equally. They cherished us, and held on to every word we said. Things changed. Terrible things started to happen within the family. These memories still scare me. They happened to everything I despised. They were so odd and, back in those days, so frequent.

The family cat, for example. His name was Ginger, and he was presented to Lily and me on our 6th birthday. He was completely black, with a pair of pale-blue eyes. There was a certain air about him, as he strutted along the hallways of our 3-storeyed house. He acted as if he was a king. At first, I was absolutely amazed by him. I fed him daily, patted him every chance I had, and played with him. Soon, however, it became clear that he did not enjoy my company. Every time my boisterous 6-year-old self would bounce near him, he'd strut away and instead, curl up next to Lily. Maybe it was because she was gentler and stroked him the right way. Perhaps it was because she whispered in his ears, almost as if he was her closest friend. It was so long ago, yet I still remember that cold feeling he gave me. As if I was unwanted and unloved.

One day, Ginger went a step too far. As I opened a can of his favorite cat food, he knocked it over, and then darted towards me. As I screamed in shock and horror, he scratched every bare millimeter of skin. All afternoon, I plotted my revenge – but by night, it was obvious that my revenge would be of no use. News came that Ginger, as he went out for his evening stroll, had been hit by a truck. While the rest of the family mourned, I did a silent victory dance in my head. After all these years, I believed my own lies that it was simply coincidence. Yet, thinking again, trucks rarely visited our neighborhood. And it was always thought that Ginger had sharp reflexes.

Ginger wasn't the only one who met such horrible fate. My kindergarten teacher broke her leg the day after she asked whether I was a boy or a girl. Those big boys in our neighborhood all gained chickenpox after they laughed at Lily and I, though it was obvious that they had once had chickenpox before. My doctor suddenly gained scurvy a week after he gave me a shot...

**_BANG. _**A scrawny-looking barn owl interrupted my train of thoughts as it literally flew straight into the crystal clear window. It seemed horribly shocked, and almost immediately started falling to the ground. I gasped, frozen stiff, though my burning heart was moved to rescue it. It needed no rescue – it quickly recovered, started flapping its wings, and perched itself this time on my windowsill. I edged towards the closed window as gently as I could, in fear of scaring it away. As I neared, I realized that there was a scroll of parchment tied to its leg. Astonished at the peculiar sight, I opened the window, my fingers reaching out to touch the parchment. Suddenly, the owl lifted one leg and stared at me expectantly. _Surely that piece of parchment couldn't be for me?_ Gently, I untied the parchment from the owl's leg. It ruffled its feathers, and looked at me encouragingly.

**Petunia Evans**

**The bedroom on the left**

**3rd Floor**

**Evans residence**

I quickly scanned the Elizabethan-like handwriting, and then unrolled the scroll.

**Dear Petunia Evans,**

**It has come to our attention that you have reached the age of 11. During this time, all sorcerers and sorceresses are to be enrolled in a wizarding school. You have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please contact through owl post, thus confirming your enrollment. **

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o

Suddenly, as I looked upon the slightly crumpled parchment, it all became clear. Fate and coincidence was not to be blamed for those past childhood events. They had come from the childish, slightly wicked dreams of a 5-year-old girl.

Fear and anxiety suddenly gripped my stomach as I realized that I had managed to cause so much pain. Yet slowly, my spirit escaped Fear's tight grasp, and it soared as it realized the significance of this letter. It fulfilled all my dreams and wishes: it proved that I was special, and that I was wanted. It meant that plain as I was, I had powers and abilities that many did not possess. That letter contained the wonders of my future. As I looked down at it, a smile formed on my face, and I thought to myself, '_I've found it. It's right here, in my hands. I've finally found my escape.' _


End file.
